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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29227182">In the End, a Beginning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigFootGirl/pseuds/BigFootGirl'>BigFootGirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Person of Interest (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:27:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29227182</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigFootGirl/pseuds/BigFootGirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoe Morgan receives an order regarding John from a mysterious woman.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zoe Morgan &amp; John Reese, Zoe Morgan/John Reese</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. John</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is an old-ish story that I found in the depths of my computer. It will probably not be updated.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was dying.</p><p>That was the only explanation for why he wasn’t in any pain after being shot and blown up by a missile.</p><p>As he woke up and his other senses kicked in, he realized with the groggy clarity of the drugged, that he was, in fact, alive. And in a hospital bed. He could hear the sounds of machines monitoring his vital signs and smell the distinctive scent of hospital-grade disinfectant; but he couldn’t hear any other signs of being in a hospital. No footsteps, or warnings, or announcements that would indicate a medical setting.</p><p>Where was he?</p><p>“Hello, Sleeping Beauty.”</p><p>He knew that voice. Zoe Morgan. What was she doing here? Wherever “here” actually was.</p><p>He groaned as he tried to sit up.</p><p>“No, John. You don’t want to do that.” Her hand lightly rested on his chest, the slight pressure keeping him prone on the bed.</p><p>He tried to speak, but his throat was tight, his mouth dry. Zoe must have seen his discomfort because when he opened his mouth again, she placed some ice chips on his tongue.</p><p>“You’ve been out for a while, John. Take it nice and slow.”</p><p>He tried to speak again, but all that came out was a strained “Zo.”</p><p>“Go back to sleep. You’re safe.”</p><p>He followed her instruction and let his body relax into the embrace of sleep. He hadn’t opened his eyes at all the entire time he was awake.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Zoe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Mrs. Campbell, I don’t think you understand what you’re asking me to do.”</p><p>“No, Doctor, I don’t think <em>you</em> understand what I’m asking you to do. My husband has never been what you would call an easy patient.”</p><p>Zoe Morgan was certain this would come down in her personal history as the single most dangerous thing she had ever been asked to do. John and his mysterious employer-who-was-not-Harold owed her big. The news on November 14<sup>th</sup> that had identified NYPD Detective John Riley as one of the victims of the explosion had startled her as John’s picture flashed on the screen.</p><p>The mystery woman’s call on November 15<sup>th</sup> that John was alive, but declared a John Doe had brought her stress levels down only slightly. The instruction that she was to go to the hospital and present the old documentation that they were John and Zoe Campbell had centered her; John needed her and she would be there.</p><p>“I’ve treated many difficult patients, Mrs. Campbell. Your husband wouldn’t be the first.”</p><p>Zoe ignored the irritated tone in the doctor’s voice. “Then what is his prognosis, Doctor.”</p><p>The doctor cleared his throat. “John was lucky. He has only first and second degree burns to his back, shoulders, and legs. There were multiple gunshot and stabbing wounds to his torso. The other bodies around him saved him from the explosion and building collapse.”</p><p>“So he’s stable.”</p><p>“For now, but moving him is not a wise course of action.”</p><p>“I’m not asking you to move him <em>now</em>, Doctor Lee. I’m asking when will he be <em>ready</em> to be moved.”</p><p>Doctor Lee sighed and scrubbed his eyes. “I don’t know yet. He’s only been here a week. We still need to monitor his vitals and treat his injuries. The burns are the worst of it right now, but even then his condition could still change.”</p><p>Zoe sighed internally. “Alright. When you determine he is ready to be moved, please let me know. In the meantime, when will he be brought out of the coma?”</p><p>The doctor looked at his notes. “Not for a while. What is this about, Mrs. Campbell?”</p><p><em>It’s about John not murdering anyone when he wakes up</em>, she thought. “It’s about my husband’s care. I realize that I may sound callous, but John is quite reactive when he wakes up, especially when he comes out of sedation. I think it would be safest for him to be brought out of sedation in an environment with less sharp objects.”</p><p>Zoe wished she could have captured the doctor’s expression when she explained John’s penchant for trying to stab people who weren’t there when he woke up. Besides, she was only following orders.</p>
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